Shades of Silence
by Alara
Summary: A reaction to classic Joe "Silent Issue". How did Scarlett get captured? Why was Snake Eyes the only one to go after her? And what were the details andeffects of her capitvity? Snake Eyes/Scarlett. Ch 1 and 4 SUBSTANTIALLY REVISED/Added to on 10/18/11.
1. Chapter 1

10/18/11: Added a Prologue and a pretty huge scene to the beginning of Chapter 4 to help with pacing. Let me know if it worked!

SE/S goodness… Yes, I know, what am I doing not writing X-men: Evo stuff? No worries, a couple WIPs for that.

I'm gleefully mixing and mashing from all available versions; Renegades (which a friend introduced me to—we're not finished watching all the episodes yet, though, boo) reminded me of how awesome GI JOE is (and Renegades is awesome itself, too!); that led me to watching some of the 80s cartoons online—and I actually still remembered watching some of them with my tribe of older brothers (I also remembered being vaguely confused about Scarlett being with Duke. Even as a wee kid, I was a Snake-Eyes girl all the way! And, yes, it is as cheesy as I remember). That same friend was horrified to hear I'd never read the original comics, and so is lending me those—have read up to issue 41, I think. And my random comic-book-reading over the years has skated me through some of the other GI JOE variations. I hope this will serve as an excuse if I get details wrong. :) Therefore, I am not going to go through the eight hundred timelines to pinpoint which one I am writing in, at least for this one, which was largely inspired by the uber cute illustration on S. L. Gallant's website (he's one of the pencillers for various comics, including JOE).

Notes:

Snake Eyes and Scarlett are still getting to be a couple, in the 'juust beginning to get serious' stage when this fic begins. SE's got issues; S has issues; it's all part of the story.

Sean, Brian, Frank, Sioban are Scarlett's siblings' names. Patrick is her father. Mother is deceased. Scarlett (Shana) is the youngest; then Sean, Brian, and Frank; Sioban is the oldest.

Hmm. What else? This is set after "Silent Interlude," GI JOE ARAH issue 21. Or one of the other series # 34, which is a redux of "Silent Interlude". I was always intrigued by some of the details provided:

-Scarlett has a band-aid on one cheek. Who the heck puts a band-aid on someone you're going to torture and/or chain up? I mean, it's sort of like deciding to commit arson, but going round and sweeping the floors and straightening the pictures first.

-Scarlett reacts extremely violently to Storm Shadow's touching her face—c'mon, trying to _bite_ him is a bit extreme. She could've head butted him or tried to hit or kick him, after all—and that probably would have been more effective, given they were on a narrow platform. So what's up with that reaction?

-How did she end up tied up in a sack to begin with, anyway? IMO, that would've taken a couple of people, even if one of them _was_ a ninja. Or some really extenuating circumstances.

Anyway those were things going through my head while I was writing this… enjoy!

Shades of Silence

by Alara

Prologue:

His eyes traced her black-and-blue features as Snake Eyes told himself, again, _She's right here. She's right next to you. Maybe she's bruised and cut a bit, but she _is_ out of that place_.Unconsciously, he stroked a hand through her bright hair. She sighed a little and nudged closer, shivering. He tightened his arm around her. Shied away from recalling the utter dread he'd felt when an alarmed greenshirt had come running in to the Pit, babbling to Duke about how Sgt. O'Hara had been _taken, _right from town, right in front of him. He shook his head, swallowed the lump of remembered fear. _She's right here._ Instead, he turned his thoughts to the last time he'd actually _seen_ Scarlett before her kidnapping.

_They'd been out on one of their rare dates in town; she'd convinced him, somehow or other, to take her out to dinner and a movie. Who was he kidding? Not himself, and probably not her, either. He wanted to go. And at the same time, he didn't. _

_It was her, it was all her; she made that difference. If she wanted to go out, he couldn't help but want to go, too, to be with her, to draw in her lightness and quick humor._

_To see who else noticed her._

_To silently warn those men—and they were always men, men who gathered in their own admiring glances; men who_ matched _her, in the eyes of society. He warned them all away from her. Even though they hadn't said anything officially yet. Even though nothing was set in stone. _

_He also couldn't help notice the stares, the people swiftly crossing the street to avoid him, the deliberate ignoring of his polite nods, the snubs_ she _received, just because he was beside her. She never seemed to notice, her light undimmed, her smile becoming nearly incandescent on those rare occasions when he'd allow himself to place an arm around her, or lean his head against hers. _

_They'd eaten at an Italian restaurant in town, not either of their favorite type of food, but it was a restaurant who tolerated the oddities that the Joes seemed to bring with them. In fact, upon seeing the couple now, they simply ushered them to a dim, candlelit anteroom away from the other diners, so Snake Eyes could at least partially remove his mask to eat. They never asked questions, they didn't stint the service, and aside from the unusual location of their table, treated them like any other regulars. _

_It was for this level of professionalism and consideration that brought them back here—in a tiny little town that probably wouldn't have_ cared _if the restaurateurs treated a freak like a freak. Besides, the breadsticks were homemade, and the desserts were to kill for. _

_They'd left a generous tip, as always, and slowly walked to the theater, arm in arm. Scarlett was smiling up at him, talking about something CoverGirl had said the other day; he simply drank in her presence. _

_In the theater, they got their tickets and popcorn and soda, and ensconced themselves in the soft chairs the theater offered. *You know, it's hilariously incongruous that a ninja loves movie-theater butter popcorn.*_

_She always said that; it was part of their movie-going ritual. He responded, *Is not. Popcorn is hardly limited to the United States, you know.*_

_*Yeah, but other places probably don't slather it in saturated fat like we do,* she pointed out._

_He shrugged. *Everyone has to have a vice.*_

_She reached for a piece, and he moved the carton out of reach. One-handed, he signed, *No, you were making fun of me for liking popcorn; I'm not sharing.*_

_She batted her eyes at him, ingénue-like; he silently laughed. *Not even if I share the Thin Mints I smuggled in?*_

_This was a departure from their usual back-and-forth. *Thin Mints?* He asked alertly, popcorn forgotten. *You brought in Thin Mints? I love Thin Mints.*_

_She snorted. *Who doesn't?*_

_*Oh, so ninja are allowed to like Thin Mints, but not popcorn?* He shook his head. *You're strange sometimes.*_

_*Hey, careful, or I_ won't _share.* She was laughing._

_He offered popcorn. *Truce?*_

_She smiled and offered him the crackling cellophane package. *Sure.* _

_As usual, they chatted throughout the movie (kung fu, which were always fun to watch. Sometimes even for the reasons the filmmakers intended). Of course, they chatted in sign, or finger-spelled into one another's hands, which might have been why they never got thrown out. _

_On their way back to the Pit, he asked, *How did you manage to get Thin Mints in, anyway? That purse is way too small to fit a sleeve of Thin Mints.*_

_She gave him an arch look. "What, you think ninja are the only ones with skills? I'm not telling."_

_*Shaaaaanaaaaa…* He was the only person she knew who could whine in ASL. _

"_Nope, not telling. Are you coming back for some tea?" Meaning, come back to her room._

_*I've got a new stash of Dragon Mountain,* he counteroffered. *My room?*_

"_Oh, you're so on. Let me just go get out of this dress."_

_He didn't think before he signed, *I like you in it.*_

_She paused. "You do?" He'd never said anything quite like that before. _

_He hesitated, then nodded. _

"_I guess I'll leave it on, then," and now her smile was softer… meant for him and him alone. _

_Unseen, beneath his mask, his own smile matched._

He wasn't smiling now, as he considered the injured woman beside him. She had been gone for a couple of days, and during that time he _knew_ she'd been struck—her injured face told that clearly enough. She had odd raw patches on her arms and ankles, as well, which he couldn't place. From the look of her, she had been permitted neither to sleep nor eat; he reminded himself that going back to that castle would not only be reckless, it would leave her alone. Actually, it would simply mean leaving her, being apart from her, and that was something he couldn't bear. Not anymore.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Chapter One

"Scarlett, you _will_ take leave, and you _will_ _go home and see your family._ Is that clear?"

"Sir, I don't—" the redhead's protest was cut off.

"Sergeant Major, _you do_." Duke cut her off with a glare. "Or do I need to get Hawk involved?"

She exhaled sharply. "Sir, with all respect—"

"Scarlett, don't give me that crap. You've just come off an extremely trying mission; Psyche-Out has been _demanding_ that you get exposure to life outside Joe and the Pit. _Civilian_ life. _Family_ life," he added pointedly. "I happen to know you _have_ one, a decent-sized one, no less.

"And," he added, before she could speak, "I know your father has been trying to get hold of you for nearly a month."

Her glare turned to confusion. "How did you—"

"All communication gets routed around the military to disguise its endpoint for security of the Joe team; you know that. What you don't know is that its last stop before it gets to _you_, is _me._ Obviously we couldn't tell your father that you were missing, presumed captured. But when he kept calling, demanding to speak to you, I had to assure him you _would_ be taking leave immediately after you got back."

"What did you tell him about where I was?" She asked warily. Her father had raised her to be independent, yes, but an odd protective streak came out in him _and_ her brothers at the oddest times. Like, any time they got a hint that her extremely secret, sensitive, national-security-I-can't-talk-about-it job was also extremely dangerous and didn't come with a nice, safe, desk.

"We told him you were training some overseas allied troops in hand-to-hand, and that the location of the training camp was very remote." At her doubtful look, he made an exasperated sound. "Look, it was the best I could come up with to cover whatever injuries you came back with. And I'm glad I did—cracked ribs, bruises all over, an eye so blacked it's _still_ swollen shut… Your father and brothers _will_ buy that you ended up with a promising but largely untrained soldier in the training group; anyone better trained would have been able to pull their punches."

"And an untrained solider under my tutelage would explain why I _let_ him hit me," she returned wearily. "Okay, fine, uncle, I give. I'll go." She saluted and turned to leave, when his voice stopped her.

"Scarlett? _Please_ talk to… someone… about whatever it was that happened to you in there." She froze. "I know you haven't been sleeping well—we get reports on any sleeping aids or narcotics that are dispensed from the infirmary. I won't press you, but if you come back from leave _still_ unable to sleep—I will take you off of active duty until Psyche-Out sees fit to clear you. Understood?"

"Sir." She saluted again, only slightly sarcastically, and left.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"…And he practically _ordered_ me—no, he _did_ order me—to go see my family!" She snarled, as she shoved some of her few civilian pieces of clothing into a rucksack. Strong hands tapped at hers, and shooed her away.

*You're making a mess of these clothes,* Snake Eyes chided her, as he re-folded and re-packed the rucksack. *Taking your frustration out on your clothes will only serve to make you look out of control.*

She sighed. "I wish you would come with me. Or that I could go with you."

Snake Eyes had also been given leave after they'd arrived back at the Pit; he had amiably acquiesced, and was going to his cabin. He'd asked her to go, too, an odd intensity in the request, but Duke had just scuttled _those_ plans.

Damn. She hoped that odd intensity meant he was finally willing to move forward in their clandestine relationship; so far, he'd hardly even hold her hand in public, though she knew he was interested in her. And she'd been looking forward to just… processing… everything that had happened at the castle. Some of it, Snake Eyes didn't even know about yet. But he was good that way; if she just needed space to vent or forget things for a while or brood, he'd let her be until she was ready to talk.

Her family, on the other hand… Well. They didn't know the meaning of the phrase "private business" when it came to a family member; they'd just pester her until she either talked, or knocked one of her brothers through the wall. They meant well; her brothers were only looking out for their younger sister, after all. If they didn't care, they wouldn't bug her so much.

Another reason why she disliked going home sometimes. Even if she _wanted_ to talk, she _couldn't,_ not without violating a couple dozen of the security and confidentiality protocols that surrounded the members of Joe.

She could lie when her family pressed her for details about whatever was bothering her, but didn't want to take that option. Too many things could backfire. The misdirection she lived under was bad enough.

The option she usually chose—taking whichever brother was currently annoying her out to the dojo, and putting him into the floor a few times—was an awkward solution. She didn't have to lie, and usually distracted the brother from whatever he'd been pestering her about, but… Later that same family member would realize that apparently she would rather beat someone down than simply _talk_ to them. It made her seem paranoid and secretive and untrusting, hurt her family's feelings, and only give them something _else_ to worry about.

Telling them the truth wasn't a realistic option, unfortunately. It would probably get her court-martialed, to begin with; it would put her family in danger; finally, it would seriously add to their worries. Better that they think she was a little crazy, than to have them _know_ the extremely dangerous life she led. They'd panic every time they couldn't get in touch with her.

Fingers waving in her face shook her out of her musings. "Sorry—?"

*I said, you _know_ why I can't go to your home with you.* His hands paused, uncharacteristic unsurety in his body language. *Where did you go there?*

"Sorry." She sighed. "I was just contemplating how much simpler my life would be if Duke weren't so keen on getting me to visit my family. Speaking of whom… I know I complain about them sometimes, but Snakes…" She took one of his hands in her own. "I'd love for them to meet you. It's not that you can't come home with me; it's that you won't. They wouldn't care about what you look like, or that you can't speak. Really. They're great people."

He smiled and touched her face gently with the hand she wasn't holding, then took them both back to sign. *I'm sure they are. And… I think I'd like to meet them someday, too,* he added, to her surprise—he'd _never_ shown an interest in meeting them before! *But,* he continued, *It _is_ 'can't'. Not 'won't'. Do you really think anyone would look at me and go, oh, sure, the military is keeping this guy behind a desk? In the chaplains' corps, no less?*

She had to snort at that. It _was_ absurd.

*That would be the first brick coming down. And it would lead to questions about how we met, when our apparent duties should never have us meet. And those questions would lead to more questions, and soon you have the whole wall coming down, and your family knows all about you, me, and GI Joe. We can't risk it.* He did look genuinely regretful.

"Damn it. Why do you have to be right?"

He shrugged. *Ninja?* He offered.

Laughter. "How does _that_ logic work?"

*Ninja are always right.*

She snorted. "Sure, you are."

*Evidence suggests we always _are_ right. After all, when was the last time you saw someone tell a ninja he was wrong?*

She had to grin at that. "Touche. I assume you mean _besides_ BeachHead."

*Well, he doesn't count. He's crazy.*

"Ha! Hello pot, kettle here!"

He mock-pouted at her. *Are you calling me crazy?*

She sighed once more. "No more than the rest of us, I guess." There was a pause as they contemplated the truth of _that_ statement. "Well, for what it's worth, I'm going to miss you."

He smiled and brushed her face again.

She didn't even need his signs to tell her that he would miss her, too.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

*Sir, I don't think you should have made Scarlett go see her family.*

Duke mused on how incongruous it was that a mute man could shout with a few silent gestures. He closed the office door behind him, ignoring the question of how Snake Eyes had gotten into his locked, secured office without alerting the guards or desk sergeant. He ignored a lot of questions when it came to Snake Eyes, it seemed. He settled himself behind the desk, offered Snakes a seat—it was refused—and regarded the commando calmly. "May I ask why you object to her seeing her family?"

To his surprise, Snake Eyes seemed hesitant, even unsure. *I… she… There's something wrong,* he finally signed.

That brought Duke on alert: Snake Eyes wasn't one to cry wolf. "Wrong? Wrong how?"

*The sleeplessness, the lack of appetite, lack of interest in her usual activities—*

Duke waved these off. "I know about those. She just came back from an extremely stressful situation. That's why I sent her off. A few days away from here always helps her bounce back whenever she's been on a long or demanding mission."

*She really didn't want to go see her family. Specifically.*

"So? She never wants to take leave."

Snake Eyes looked down for a moment, as though pondering what to say. *She's… she's been crying in her sleep.* He finally signed, without looking at Duke.

Duke resisted the urge to ask him just how he knew that, and instead focused on the information. "Anything else?"

*She's been… paranoid. Not cautious, paranoid.*

"About what?"

*Walking down darkened hallways, being alone in a room with only one exit, she's been jumping at sudden movements or noises…* He paused and added, *She's been going armed even inside the Pit, except when behind a few sets of locked doors. And even then, her sidearm isn't far away.*

Duke tugged at his lip. "And you're telling me all this only now, three days after you two got back, because…?"

*I wasn't expecting you to order her specifically home. I was expecting you to simply order her to take leave somewhere. We were going to go to my dojo in the mountains—away from everything Joe, or stressful, or…* He shrugged. *The dojo holds only good memories, calm memories, for her. I was hoping that setting would let her relax enough to tell me what happened to her. Because something did; she had very… unusual… wounds.*

Duke's frown deepened. "What sort of 'unusual' wounds?"

Snake Eyes made a frustrated gesture. *I don't know! They didn't look like rope marks or cane marks or burns or—* The ninja froze, as realization struck him.

"What? What is it, man?"

*Shackles. Four-inch-wide shackles. Those were the marks on her wrists and ankles. And—* Duke could see him swallow heavily, even through the full face mask. *Handprints. Like someone grabbed her, hard. Gripped her. Held her… hard enough to leave bruises of fingerprints.*

"Damn it." Duke said with feeling. "I should've insisted she talk to Psyche-Out before she left. And no wonder she didn't want to see her family; her brothers and father have a protective streak a mile wide. They sure make up for the sister," he added in an aside. "If she wasn't _just_ put in a cell… if she was chained… tortured…" he shook his head. "And she can't tell any of them about what happened without violating the security protocols. And that damn woman was too stubborn to tell any of us. Damn it. Damn me!"

*Give me leave so I can go check on her.*

Duke snorted. "Hell with that; I'll go collect her myself."

*Not without violating those security protocols, you won't. I can check out the situation quietly, extract her if need be.*

Duke eyed the ninja. "You do realize she's just visiting her family, not locked up in another castle somewhere, right?" He was treated to a withering look. "Fine, fine, consider yourself on leave. Report back if… well, just report back, all right?"

Snake Eyes nodded once, and was gone.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Scarlett cursed Duke under her breath again as she pulled into her father's driveway. It was a six and a half-hour drive from Memphis, where she'd flown in to; not quite long enough an overall trip to really justify staying the night any place, but long enough for her back and knees to ache while driving, even with breaks to stretch. The cracked ribs weren't helping, either. Plus the flight, then the drive, meant getting up 0600 hours; if Duke had just given her leave and allowed her to stay at the Pit, or allowed her to go with Snake Eyes, she'd have been sleeping in. She _loved_ sleeping in.

She pulled down the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. And she could've used the beauty rest. A gouge still marred her right cheek, her left eye was still swollen shut, and makeup only went so far in disguising them. "Oh, well, Shana," she said to herself softly. "Buckle up—you're gonna need a _whole_ lot of self-control this week."

"Shana! Hey, Shana's home!" She heard her brother Sean shout from the porch, and winced as she swung herself out of the car, waved, and popped the trunk to grab her bag. He was going to freak when he saw her face. Brian would joke about it, Frank would keep his opinions to himself, but Sean took his role of big brother very seriously at times. Like, any time she got so much as a paper cut, he threatened to go burn down a forest in revenge. Subtlety wasn't really one of his strong points. Useful at times, yes, but…

"Hey, Sis, lemme help you with that!" She heard Sean's cheerful voice behind her, and braced herself as she closed the trunk lid and slowly turned. "We didn't know you were—_holy shit_, Shana! What the—what—who—Good Lord, no wonder you're on leave!" He gaped at her.

She smiled wanly. "Hi, Sean. Let's go up to the house so I can get the reactions—and explanation—over with all at once, huh?"

"Yeah…" He hadn't taken his eyes from her swollen one, and without looking away, reached out and grabbed her bag, slinging it over one well-muscled shoulder. "Geeze…"

"Sean, look where you're going, you'll trip," she reminded him, and he shook himself.

"What? Oh, right."

He kept sneaking peeks at her as they walked up the winding driveway.

She smiled at him. "Don't worry. It doesn't really hurt anymore. Really."

They walked up the porch, and he pulled the door open for her. "Yeah, just be careful how you break it to—"

"Shana, my darling girl! I thought I heard Sean yell your name!" Her father Patrick was in his wheelchair just inside the door, arms outstretched.

She broke into a completely spontaneous grin. "Da!" She bent to kiss him hello.

He accepted it, hugged her around the neck, then gripped her chin in a strong hand and tilted her head this way and that, frowning at the damage to her face. "What have you been up to, darlin' girl?" He murmured, eyes concerned.

She waved him off. "Where are Brian and Frank? I'd rather get all the embarrassing explanations out of the way at once."

"They're out in the dojo, cleaning up after the evening class. Should be in in a minute. Come into the kitchen, sit down. I know it's a long drive for you."

She accepted the offer gratefully; Sean ran her bag up to her room and joined them in the kitchen where they sat drinking sweet tea. She sighed happily. "Da, no one makes tea like you do."

He smiled at her. "Ah, g'wan with you."

"No, really. I have this one… friend… from work who is _really_ serious about tea." She said, thinking of Snake Eyes. "I mean, he will defend his tea stash to the death," _literally_, she thought, but that was a detail they really didn't need to know, "and his tea _is_ good, but it's just not… your tea."

"See how easy it is to pay your dad a compliment?" Patrick chortled and smacked Sean's arm. "Shana, dear, my ego needs you home more often!"

"Sooo. This 'friend' of yours, who is so serious about his tea," Sean began coyly. "Does he have a name?"

She eyed her brother suspiciously. "Yesss… why?"

"Because if he's sharing that tea with you, _you_ must be something pretty special to him, too, huh?"

She felt her face flame. "No, it's not like that."

He chortled. "Didja see her expression when she talked about him, Dad? Look at that blush!"

"No, seriously, he and I are—"

"Does he share this oh-so-special tea with anyone else?"

"Um…" Actually, she was pretty sure he didn't. The thought had never occurred to her before, though.

Sean smirked. "I rest my case."

Just then, the screen door banged open, and Frank and Sean came trundling in, talking to one another. The conversation was dropped in favor of running at Scarlett, arms outstretched, when they recognized the back of her head, with its long tail of bright hair, sitting at the table. She laughingly found herself being hugged from either side as her brothers cornered her and offered greetings.

They backed off a bit, and Frank squinted at her and let out a low whistle; Brian swore under his breath. "Jesus God, Shana, whose bad side did you get on?"

She snorted dismissively. "Apparently, I got on the bad side of whatever idiot was reviewing a bunch of newbies for advanced hand-to-hand. Got a raw, untrained newbie in the group."

The men all winced; as martial arts instructors, they _knew_ what havoc an utterly untrained person could cause; the untrained ones didn't know what moves were allowed, didn't have a lot of control over their movements, and they didn't know how to pull punches.

"Eesh." Brian sucked air in between his teeth and leaned in for a closer look. "What opened up your cheek, though? No one was stupid enough to bring an edged weapon to a hand-to-hand class, were they?"

She laughed ruefully and touched the slice gingerly. "No, that part was sheer dumb luck. When this landed," she pointed at her swollen eye, "the guy knocked me into a piece of equipment which was apparently sharper than it looked." She shrugged sheepishly, holding out her hands as if to say, _What could I do?_

"Huh," her father said reflectively. "Well, staring at it won't make it better, boys. Let's get started on dinner, eh?"

The mood broke, and she smiled at him gratefully. When she moved to get up and help with dinner, he waved her back to her seat. "They boys have dinner under control. Sit with me a while. Tell me about work."

"I, uh—" she floundered, unsure what to say, hating to have to come up with a lie—especially with no time to prepare one.

"Oh, fine, fine, I know, you army people all have these things you can't talk about. Tell me about these boys you were training. How were they? How did the classes go?"

Well, she'd actually _gone_ on a hand-to-hand training mission a couple of months ago, so she drew on that experience to spin out a story for her father until dinner was ready. Then, during dinner, she kept them entertained with stories about the antics of some of her coworkers—she just had to adjust certain details, like not mentioning she typically worked in a super secure area five stories underground, for instance.

She put off going to bed as long as possible, knowing what her night was likely to be like. She hadn't slept the night through since getting back, and she had little hope that tonight would be different. She was jumpy, twitching at every little sound, but eventually drifted off… and right into memory.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	2. Chapter 2

Shades of Silence by Alara

Chapter Two

_It had all been a setup,_ she'd realized when the drugs kicked in. _Unusually clever; the Cobra Commander must not have had a hand in planning it. _Cobra was devious, though; who'd think a grandmother a Cobra agent? Or perhaps it had been the EMT. _She'd been entering a convenience store when a robber had burst through the glass door. She started to react, but he was faster, grabbing a shard of glass and swiping at her face; he clipped her just as she straight armed him and took him down. _

"_Oh, my…" She'd looked up from making sure the guy was out cold to see a little old lady standing nervously inside the store, eyeing the young woman who'd so handily taken down the robber. Scarlett had smiled wryly. Duke was going to _love_ this incident report. "Army," she said to the woman blandly, and then asked, "Is anyone hurt? Has anyone called the police?"_

_The old woman had blinked, and nodded. "Yes, the police are on their way, and I think you're the only one who got hurt. Come here, dear, let me give you something for that cheek." The woman had proffered a handkerchief. Scarlett had gotten off of the would-be robber after checking him for weapons and removing a pocket knife and gun. She resisted the urge to kick him. _

"_Miss?"_

_The old woman was still holding out that handkerchief. Scarlett smiled and accepted it, wiping the blood from her face and then dabbing at the cut. It stung and made her feel odd; the woman must have sprayed it with perfume. "Thank you." She said politely, and the woman had tremulously smiled. _

_Then a flurry of activity, as police arrived, and EMTs and onlookers. She refused medical treatment; it was just a cut. They'd eyed her askance when everyone pointed to her as the one who took down the robber, until they'd got a look at her ID. The officer had handed her card back to her and started writing in his notebook. "Army, huh? Guess they keep you in pretty good shape, to take down a big guy like that."_

"_It helps I'm a martial arts instructor," she said dryly, and enjoyed his startled look, which turned thoughtful. _

"_Well, thank you, Sergeant O'Hara, for your service and for talking to us today. We might still need to get in touch with you, but I have your contact information here. Now, _please_, go and get that cheek looked at! I'd feel better knowing you had someone medical look at it, okay?"_

_Well… she sighed. It _would_ cause less of a flurry at the Pit to have a bandaged cheek rather than an open wound. And the officer had been nice about it—they sometimes weren't. She'd nodded, and headed over to the ambulance. The guy had given her a relieved look as he pulled on medical gloves._

"_Thanks for coming over, it's really more than my job is worth to let someone who stopped a robbery go away without us even looking at her…" He pulled the handkerchief away and tutted at the still-bleeding gash. "Hold still, I've got just the thing…" He rummaged in a drawer and brought out a nondescript looking jar. He dipped his fingers in; it was some kind of salve. _

_He rubbed a good amount of it into her face; she tried not to move her face, but it stung worse than the perfume-soaked handkerchief had, and the scent made her really dizzy. So dizzy, in fact, that when she tried to stand, she found it impossible. "What…"_

"_Hey! Hold on there, miss, you must've gone lightheaded." The EMT caught her and urged her back onto the gurney. He carefully taped a band-aid over the cut. Warmth emanated from it, and her dizziness increased._

_She shook her head. "No… gotta get back t'… Wha'd you do t'me?" She managed to get out, around a suddenly thick tongue; the ambulance started to spin crazily, sickeningly. She closed her eyes, heard the EMT saying "Sorry," —_

—_Opened her eyes in a bare walled cell, dressed in only her bra, undershirt, and panties. Her hands were shackled together in back of her; her legs were shackled too, each closed into restraints built into the concrete floor. _

Oh, this is never a good way to wake up, _she clearly remembered thinking. _Wonder how long it's been—and what do they want? _She tried to move, and her extreme stiffness betrayed that it had probably been several hours, at least._ _The cold made itself known at that point, and she was grateful they'd at least left her undershirt on; as it was, she could feel her fingertips going numb from combined chill and stillness. _Numb hands are gonna make picking these locks much harder. So is the fact that my damn hands are behind my back. And this damn drug, which is making me twitchy _and_ dizzy. Great. Thank God for Snakes' lessons on extreme lockpicking… I'll have to apologize. I never thought the lessons on picking handcuffs while standing in ice-melt would come in handy…

Unfortunately his lessons hadn't extended to what happened next._ Boots came crunching down the corridor outside her cell, and halted when they saw her sluggishly moving form. There was a rattle of keys, and the beep of an electronic lock, then the whir of gears shifting. She bit back a half-hysterical laugh: good to know they were treating her as a dangerous prisoner. But it was _never_ a good sign when a guard entered the cell, she knew that. _

"_Hey, there, chickie," he cooed, as he swaggered his way toward her. Typical Cobra goon—wait til the prisoner was all trussed up, then gloat. It must be part of their training, because they all did it. Usually they yelled things through the door though; she tried to swallow down the knot of fear that had settled low in her stomach. _Don't panic, it's the drugs, you're off-balance, get in control, Scarlett.

"_You're a pretty one," he said, grabbing her chin and shoving her hair out of her face. "Even with a damaged face," and he caressed the bandaged cheek. He dropped her face and circled her slowly, looking down at where she perforce knelt on the ground. "Mmm…" he approved. "You are a tight little package, aren't you? Not a bit of fat. That special army program must keep you fit." _

_She restrained herself from snorting in derision. Maybe this was Cobra's new tactic: try to offend prisoners into talking. Well, this guy hadn't heard how offensive Clutch could get at times; she'd have to remember to thank him, too, for giving her a new low benchmark for innuendo. _

_Of course, that didn't mean she _liked_ the way the guy was looking at her, either. She sagged oh-so-slightly in relief when another pair of boots came crunching their way down the hall, another guard calling, "Hask? Where'd you—oh." All hope of an inadvertent rescue—or respite—fled, though, when a nasty smile crossed the new guard's face. He shook a finger at Hask. "Bad form, getting started without me."_

"_C'mon, Williams, I was just looking."_

_The smile came back. "And there's a bit to look at, isn't there? Yes…" A considering look. "But I think we'll make this really fun. Blindfold her." _

"_But—" _

"_They don't care what we do to her, as long as she can still talk and think."_

_A short laugh. "Good. Good." There was a rustle of cloth and she turned her head just soon enough to see Hask reach for the hem of her undershirt—just before he pulled it up over her head in a makeshift hood. _

This is… not good, she acknowledged. _"What do you want?" She was glad her voice didn't tremble. _

"_That would be telling, chickie. It'd ruin our fun." _

Really not good.

_She started as she heard a flip-knife open, and braced herself for pain. It didn't come. Instead, she felt her bra being cut away. Of course. Then, an odd pressure against her mouth—Williams was cutting through the undershirt, opening a slit in it for her—_

"_Besides, you're the only woman they've got on that team of yours, right? Should be used to this…"_

Oh God, oh God. _The warning sound of a zipper going down gave her a half second to clench her teeth together. She could _smell_ the man coming closer, and tensed. He ran a thumb over her lips, then shoved it between them only to jam it against her teeth._

"_Huh. Very clever." She heard him make a gesture to Hask and firmed the tightness of her jaw._

_Was glad she'd done so a second later as something shoved underneath her underwear and groped at her. She thought it was Hask's hand. She sort of hoped it was his hand, given the alternatives. _

_Williams grunted. "Damn. That usually works." _

_The hand was withdrawn from her backside; Williams maintained his grip on her face, trying to force her jaw open. _Nonononono. Not going to happen. Not going to ha—

_Unfortunately she hadn't anticipated their next tactic, which did not involve punching or kicking her, which she'd expected. She did not expect, however, two icy hands to suddenly grab her breasts and twist them. She gasped involuntarily, Williams shoved her cheeks in so her own flesh kept his fingers shielded from her teeth, damn him and his triumphant "Ha!", and then—_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Shana?" The voice startled her awake.

She woke, sweating and shaking and sick. And Duke wondered why she hadn't been sleeping.

"Shana?" It was Frank, who stood in the doorway, looking worried. "Are you all right? You were… muttering, you sounded afraid."

"Just a bad dream. Thanks for waking me."

He seemed doubtful but inclined to drop it; she was grateful it was the least intrusive of her brothers who'd been disturbed by her dreams. It wasn't such a problem at the Pit, since the rooms were soundproofed, and besides she could take a heavy enough dose of sleep aids that only her alarm set to its loudest setting would wake her.

She waited til the house settled again, then silently crept downstairs with a book and curled up in the living room: there'd be no more sleeping tonight, that was for sure.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

She keenly regretted the lack of sleep the next day, when her brothers persuaded her to come observe some of their classes in the dojo. Her mind spiraled off into dozens of tangential directions. She was glad she wasn't actually demonstrating anything today—it would end up being object lessons in how _not_ to perform certain moves, not to mention being illustrative of how important focus was in the martial arts.

"These exercises will help you build endurance," Brian said to the class, and the word seemed to echo in her head...

_*Endurance under trying circumstances is part of the training of every ninja. It should be part of the training of the GI JOE team,* she remembered Snake Eyes signing to her once, while she was training with him. That had led to an interesting discussion of various mental toughness exercises, but Snake Eyes maintained that sheer endurance would win out._

_Scarlett was discovering how true this was. _Endure endure endure_ she thought, concentrating on that and looking for opportunities to hurt her opponents, trying to ignore their handling of her. Brief snippets of conversation with BeachHead about down-and-dirty fighting blinked in and out of her mind; they helped her ignore… what was happening._

_Williams, standing in front of her, finally forgot himself, and let the fingers crushing her face fall slack. Instantly, she bit down as hard as she could—and instead of spitting him out, which every instinct shouted at her to do, tried her best to grind her teeth together. She'd teach them that it was_ not _a good idea to assault any member of the Joe team, even if they thought they had the upper hand. And if she emasculated him in the meantime, well, she figured she was doing the world a favor. And at least this particular Cobra minion wouldn't want to touch her again. He wouldn't be_ able _to._

_She heard him curse wildly, high pitched, screaming, as he rained heavy blows down on her head. _"Get her off! Get her off!"

_Hask left off feeling her up, came around, and punched her so hard in the face that even with her eyes blindfolded, her vision blinked out for a moment: she saw red, a good sign he'd bruised something in her eyes. The punch was so literally stunning that she went utterly limp for a second—including her jaw. She hit the ground. _

_Before she could recover, an enraged Williams started kicking her as hard as he could in the side. She tried to curl up, but her hands were still pinned behind her back, making bending forward nearly impossible. And her ankles were still bolted to the floor; she couldn't move away. She felt bones bend and break, and wondered briefly if she was going to be kicked to death._

_Hask realized that the enraged Williams was in a homicidal state; she heard him throw himself against the other man, shoving him out of range of her. Williams was still screaming obscenities at her._

_Both men were so preoccupied that they didn't hear the door open again. So their surprise was genuine when a low, accented voice hissed out of nowhere. _

"_What, exactly, is going on here?_"

_Cautiously, she raised her head. This one sounded genuinely pissed off._

_From the guards' response, he was, and from the fear in their voices, this was Not a Good Thing._

"_Uh, sir, we were just—"_

"—_and the bitch bit me! So I—"_

"—_security measures state—"_

"…_friggin' members of that damn GI Joe team…"_

_Abruptly, they shut up; he must have made some gesture, but somehow had managed to do so_ silently.

When he spoke, it was in an utterly cold tone. _"You have dishonored yourselves, the Cobra Commander, the whole Cobra enterprise with these thoughtless deeds._ I don't want to hear it, _Williams! I know what was going on; two men, with a female prisoner who is undressed, shackled, bound, and blindfolded, do not make for a good start. Add to that the prisoner's wounds, and the fact that one of the men is obviously aroused and the other has a bloodied groin—this hardly needs a high intellect to figure out what happened."_ He spat._ "This is disgusting behavior. Since you clearly cannot be trusted to_ do your jobs, _I am taking the prisoner. Any objections?"_ Silence. _"I thought not. You are dismissed."_

"_But—"_

"Do_ I need to repeat myself?"_

The boots retreated.

Huh, _she thought, amazed._ Who'd've thought anyone in Cobra had enough conscience to even get annoyed at something like this? And this guy is enraged! Fortunately for me, I guess…

_Hands that moved in eerie, half-familiar patterns, briskly patted her down, checking for obvious injuries. "Can you stand?"_ _She shrugged, then nodded warily. As far as she knew, they hadn't injured her legs._

_Carefully, the unknown undid the bolts holding her to the floor and stood her upright, leaving the makeshift hood in place. She heard a rustle of cloth and then a soft touch on her leg. "Lift your foot." She did so, and felt something constricting sliding over her foot and ankle. She realized he was putting her uniform back on her. Curious consideration for her modesty, but she certainly wasn't going to argue. Awkwardly, he managed the pants, then cinched them snugly. _

_Pain, then numbness, abruptly spread through one shoulder, then the other. Before she could panic, that smooth voice intoned, "It is merely to ensure you do not attempt to attack me or escape," and the handcuffs dropped away from one wrist. He peeled the undershirt back down, then briskly pulled her jacket's sleeve over one arm, then threaded the other, handcuffs dangling, through the other. He clicked the handcuffs tightly—in front of her, thankfully—and then did up the fasteners on the jacket front._

_The entire business was conducted asexually, and from behind her; it was odd, but preferable to the alternative. She concentrated on trying to blink her eyes back into working properly again. _

_More jabs, and feeling started to painfully prick its way down her arms. _

_She'd been right about the punch to the head; her vision was spotty. She tried to get a look at her sort-of rescuer, but all she got was an impression of white clothing, Asian eyes, and extreme swiftness. _

_She couldn't help but be a bit amused that, after all that consideration—he'd even waited 'til she could move her fingers again—he abruptly threw her over a shoulder and carried her… someplace. It looked like a cross between a subway tunnel and an airplane hangar. He barely placed her feet on the ground when unseen handlers swathed her in a heavy burlap sack, which was then tied tightly around her shoulders, waist (not incidentally, pinning her chained hands to her waist as well), upper thighs, knees, and ankles. They'd rolled her up quite exactly as though she were a rug. _

_Well._ They _weren't taking chances, either, apparently. _

_A few moments, the sound of a motor whining as it warmed up, then a strong arm was wrapping around her waist, gripping the rope around her waist firmly. Then: vertigo, more frightening because of her enforced passivity, unable even to_ see _which direction was up._

She had absolutely no sense of time during the trip to the castle—it could have been twenty minutes or two hours. It didn't help that she kept coming in and out of consciousness, she was sure. Nor did the damned upside-down flying.

_When they arrived, he left the sack around her, and steered her…another someplace…with nudges. He jerked her to a halt. She heard a blade unsheathing_—really? After all this, he was going to kill her _now?_—_and tried to remain relaxed enough to move_.

_There was a breath of metal across her face and body, and the sacking dropped away. To her shock, she was staring into Cobra Commander's mask! He seemed equally surprised to see her. Curtly, he ordered the man to "put her someplace appropriate." The man bowed in response, and with a shock she realized why he seemed sort-of familiar: he was a ninja!_

_The white-clad ninja (and who met one, let alone two, ninja in her lifetime, anyway? How'd she get so lucky?) gave her over to an anonymous Cobra flunky to steer. Somewhat to her relief, the ninja followed behind them. She would rather that ninja be Snake Eyes, of course, but beggars couldn't be choosers._

_They arrived about five levels down from where they'd started. It seemed to be underground; at least, it was quite damp on this level and smelled of earth. At the bottom of the last staircase, two more Cobra guards stood with weapons at the ready. When he caught sight of the white ninja pacing silently behind them, one of the guards hopped to and heaved a heavy round piece of the floor away. _

_Yawning blackness beckoned from the hole. She_ really _did not want to go in there, but sensed she didn't have much of a—_

_The ninja grabbed her around the waist and leapt into that darkness. They landed on a dais of some sort, one with another heavy metal staple set in to the top of it. He clipped chains to her wrists, then expertly threaded the chain through the staple, and removed the handcuffs, allowing her a little freedom of movement. He gave her an odd, assessing, considering look and reached out to touch her undamaged cheek ever-so-gently._

_Rage boiled up._ Oh, great. He was just waiting until he had me alone and even more helpless! Damn if I'm going to let him have any easier a time of it than those other guys—

_Her sharp teeth snapped at his hand. He jerked back in surprise. _

_She felt smug for about point-two seconds, which is when he reached for his sword._

Uh-oh… _But to her confusion, he huffed in annoyance, and made an astonishing leap out of the top of the oubliette, sealing it behind him. _

_Ha! This was the opportunity she'd been waiting for. Casually, because certainly they had cameras on her, she fished a hairpin from the nape of her neck. She pretended to be stretching her wrists and arms as she swiftly worked on the lock of the shackles. With pleasing swiftness, they fell open; she pulled the chains out, hefted them once or twice, then climbed the curving ladder to the top hatch… and waited._

_She didn't have to wait for long, of course; they realized pretty quickly that she was gone. The hatch grated as it shifted. She waited—waited—waited—there! The person conveniently silhouetted himself against the light from the top; to his eyes, however, the pit would be completely dark. _

_She swung the heavy chain expertly, snapping it around his neck and hauling on it. She managed to take him completely by surprise, and threw_ him _into the oubliette. To her surprise, it was the ninja—she hadn't thought they'd send so valuable an asset to check on a prisoner! He recovered quickly, and grabbed her ankle as she was climbing out; she grabbed the first handy thing—the lid—and clanged it against his head. He dropped. She mildly regretted having to hurt him, but whether he was nice or not, she was still a prisoner, and was looking to change that status as soon as possible. _

_Now, to find a way out… _

Of course, while all this was going on, she had no idea Snakes was looking for her…

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_How does Shana get herself into these situations?_ Snake Eyes had time to wonder, as he low-jumped from the C-140 to the roof of the castle. He deployed his chute and angled in to a perfect landing on top of the absurd dragon gargoyle Cobra Commander had seen fit to decorate his castle with. _God knows, I love her, but she has the strangest knack for falling into odd situations. Getting trapped in an exploding helicopter; attacked while on the Hudson River ferry; now, she just ran in to town to pick up a prescription, and she managed to get kidnapped. And moved to a new location besides! _

He was a little grateful that he ran into a bunch of guards on the roof; it allowed him to take out some of his frustration at the situation on them. And keeping some of them alive kept him thinking; Shana hated it when he killed people for no good reason. _You never know who could be a future ally,_ she said, and she was right… to a point. Right now, these goons were between him and Shana, and Heaven help those who got in his way. No, scratch that: Heaven help _him_ get to her—quickly.

Apparently he wasn't quite quick enough, though; he dropped into their dungeon only to find it empty; looked like Shana was working on getting herself out of here. No problem; he'd just find her and they'd make an escape together. It would be a different sort of date than the usual, but wasn't variety supposed to keep relationships healthy?

He grinned to himself behind his mask as he heard three red ninja drop behind him. They were quiet, but _he_ was the Silent Master, after all. They'd learn… or not.

As he swiftly dispatched them, he considered that he must be heading in the right direction; no need to guard an unimportant doorway, right? He took it as a sign, and charged on.

One of the more interesting moments of the night came when he was suddenly looking at his near-mirror image: a ninja in white, who fought as well as he did. The other ninja thought he had him cornered, or whatever you called it when you had your opponent facing skewering or falling to death. The other took a second to gloat, then another to aim as he dramatically threw his sword at Snake Eyes—

—only to be startled as a hurtling form dropped down from the sky to land solidly between the flying sword and Snake Eyes. _She may get into strange situations, but she always has good timing. _He'd heard Scarlett's approach a half a second earlier. That, combined with the other's second of surprise, gave Snake Eyes enough time to calculate and reach neatly over Scarlett's shoulders to grab the blade by the flat and throw it off into the darkness; the next second his arms were around her waist and shoulder; the third, they were zooming away toward Wild Bill and safety.

Not for the first time he wished he had a speaking voice; he sensed something… off… about Scarlett during that cold and windy trip, but frustratingly lacked the ability to ask her what it was. He tried tapping Morse against her shoulder but she winced and shouted over the wind, "Please don't! Hurts."

He nodded against the back of her neck, sighed, and settled for tucking his head close to hers until they met with the C-140.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	3. Chapter 3

Shades of Silence by Alara

Chapter Three

The next morning, as she was making the coffee, Scarlett was startled to hear a knock at the back door. She moved to go answer it, wondering who on earth would be knocking at the door at this hour… To her surprise, a neighbor she'd gone to high school with stood outside. Liz's eyes lit up when she saw Scarlett.

*Shana! I heard you snuck in. Were you even going to tell anyone you were around?* Her hands flew, almost blurring, before she flung herself at the redhead and hugged her tightly.

Liz was profoundly deaf; as a result, most of Scarlett's high school class had learned at least some sign—and her brothers had learned some, too, since Liz's parents were their neighbors.

*Hello! What are you doing home? I got ordered to take some time off, so…* Shana shrugged. *Here I am.*

*Leave it to you, Shana O'Hara, to be _ordered_ to take time off!* Liz was laughing. *How's the Army treating you? I'm also glad to see you've kept up on your ASL.*

They made their way over to the table, where Liz sat while Shana poured coffee for both of them before joining her.

*Little do you know—it's now mandatory for my entire unit to know it.* Shana allowed a smug smile to cross her face.

*Really? I thought if you were deaf, you couldn't do a lot of things for the Army.* Her friend didn't seem perturbed, just curious. *Is there a deaf soldier you work with?*

*Well, remember, I'm in the chaplains' corps,* Shana temporized, mentally crossing her fingers. *But no—what happened was that one guy was… injured quite badly, and lost his voice. Permanently.*

*Oh, no! And he didn't retire, or discharge, or whatever you call it?*

*He has some pretty unique skills. He'd be hard to replace. And he didn't want to leave, anyway.*

*So how did that end with the whole group having to learn ASL?*

*Well, he's a good close friend of mine—probably the closest I have in—the group,* she had to catch herself before she spelled out JOE. *And after the accident, he was determined to do things on his own, as though literally nothing had happened.*

Liz snorted.

*Right. Well, he got into trouble when he _needed_ to talk, and couldn't. He'd been making do with scribbling notes, but they aren't much good in the rain, or dust, or snow.*

*Or the dark,* Liz added.

*So I badgered him into learning ASL. He _really_ didn't want to at first—I think he felt it made him weird or something. Then I showed him that I already knew ASL, and could help teach him. Eventually he caved.*

*And the unit?*

*The commanders realized that he and I could communicate _really_ efficiently and subtly if we needed to, or communicate in the dark and silently by finger spelling into each other's hands. Plus, they didn't want him to feel singled out. So they made it a part of the training to get into the group.*

*Chaplains have to communicate silently in the dark?* Liz looked a little skeptical.

Scarlett thought quickly. *Hey, just because we don't go jumping out of airplanes or driving tanks everywhere, doesn't mean we aren't in dangerous situations sometimes. We go where the troops go, after all,* Shana pointed out.

Liz looked thoughtful. *I hadn't thought of that.*

*And it would be disastrous if we gave away someone's position by just talking too loudly.*

*Right.* She smiled impishly. *So… what's this really-good-friend's name?*

Shana groaned at the predictable question, but fortunately was saved by her father's wheeling himself into the room. He grinned at Liz; he'd always liked her. "*I _thought_ I didn't hear anyone down here,*" he said and signed teasingly.

Liz giggled and shot back, *Hey, Mr. O'Hara, I didn't hear you walk in—oops.* She covered her mouth with both hands, eyes widened comically, as she appeared to just then notice his wheelchair.

He laughed at her rejoinder, collected his own coffee, and placed himself at the table. "*So, what are we talking about?*"

"*Nothing,*" Shana got in, right before Liz's *The man Shana's interested in.*

Shana dropped her head into her hands as her father crooned, "Ohh, a man, is there? And how is it we're just now hearing about him?"

_Well, for starters, just telling you his name would open a box of worms, I can't tell you what he does for a living, and _he_ refuses to come home to meet _you_, so… _She lifted her head and glared at Liz. *Some friend you are.*

She laughed unrepentantly.

Frank came in then, and eyed them uncertainly. "*Everything all right? Hello, Liz.*"

"*Everything's fine. Shana's got a man, we think."

Frank, bless him, merely raised an eyebrow, said, "Huh," and went back to getting his coffee.

Sean and Brian came in then and hugged Liz hello, who immediately asked them, *Have you met Shana's boyfriend?*

Brian sniffed and said, "*A boyfriend? Sheesh, well, it's about time."

Sean went into full older-brother-defensive mode. "A boyfriend? And you're just telling us? When do we get to meet him? You don't go anywhere _alone_ with him, do you?" He forgot to sign, but Liz was able to follow along: she pointed at Shana and laughed at her.

Shana shot her the bird swiftly and reminded her family, "*I'm an adult now, you know. I can have a boyfriend if I want. And I'm a martial arts trainer for the _Army_, what kind of question is 'do I go anywhere alone with him'?*"

Frank looked a bit more interested. "*So there _is_ a guy?*"

She waved her hands. "No no no… I meant _if_ I wanted a boyfriend, I _could_ have one—even if Sean here hasn't met him."

"Ah…" Brian nodded wisely, sipped his coffee, and asked, "*So… is this not-your-boyfriend guy the tea guy?*"

"*Look at her blush! It must be,*" Frank laughed, tossed back the rest of his cup, and waved to his brothers. "C'mon guys, we'll have all week to tease Shana; we've got a class coming in a while."

"Tch. Slavedriver," Sean muttered, but got up. "Shana, you're looking better-rested today; could we interest you in helping with some of the classes?"

"Sure. Let me know when."

Liz was looking confused. *What's this about tea?*

Patrick chuckled, and explained the comment. Understanding dawned across Liz's face. *So, you helped him with ASL, he shares his oh-so-special tea with you… Are you _sure_ there's nothing going on?*

*No!*

*Do you want there to be? I get the feeling there's something you haven't told me,* Liz said, then stood and drained the rest of her coffee. *But it'll have to wait. Thanks for the coffee, O'Haras. Mostly I wanted to see if the rumor that Shana was visiting was true. I'll be back to collect her for some shopping or something one of these days—gotta run!*

She waved goodbye and disappeared out the door. Shana cleared away the abandoned cups, refilled her own, offered her father some, and sat back down.

"So," her father said quietly. "I also get the feeling there's more than you've said about this young man. Out with it. It can't be _just_ that you like him."

"And who says I do?" She shifted uncomfortably. One good thing about working with mostly guys: you didn't end up with heart-to-hearts too often.

Her father smiled. "Your face does, every time you speak of him. So: out with it. What is it about him that's so odd you don't want to mention him to your father or brothers?"

"Eh…"

"Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it."

_Oh, yeah, like the word 'ninja' is just thrown about every day. He won't let this go, will he? _"Well, it's not that he's odd," she temporized, "It's that he's very… private. For good reasons. And I've tried to talk him into coming with me to visit, but… well, the best I've ever got out of him is a 'someday, maybe,' and that was only a few days ago!"

"Hooo…" He stroked his chin, leaning back. "So you were thinking of bringing him home to meet us, eh? What is this fellow's name, anyway? Surely his sense of privacy doesn't extend to something as simple as a name."

She laughed wryly. "Da, nothing about Snake Eyes is simple."

"Nothing ab—_'Snake Eyes'_?" Patrick asked incredulously. "That's his _name?_"

"He had some very… specialized martial arts training in Asia, and the masters there gave him that name. It's all he goes by, now."

"Huh. Does he. Well, you know we're not so shallow as to judge a man by his name; there has to be more. What else?"

"Um. He's mute; lost his voice in an… accident… some years ago," she said carefully, stepping only on the most exact portions of the truth.

"Sweetheart, I'm disabled, and in a wheelchair. Not one to throw stones at another's disability."

"But it's _not_ a disability!" Shana quickly flashed back. "I swear, when he lost his voice, he ramped up all his other abilities like you wouldn't believe! He's brave, and kind, and loyal, and justifiably proud of all the things he does."

Patrick held up both hands, as though to ward off an attack. "Whoa, whoa. You really _do_ like this… Snake Eyes, don't you?" He chuckled. "Sounds like you've had to give that 'he's not disabled' speech a few times."

"Yeah, well, sometimes new people at work want to dismiss him because of it, or _have_ him dismissed because they think he can't do his job as well, when really he does his job better than anyone else _can."_

"And that's another thing. Shana. Your job…" She froze. "I'm not a stupid man. I _know_ your job consists of more than training chaplains' bodyguards in jiujitsu and muy thai."

"What makes you think that?" She asked quietly. _What did I say that made me blow my cover?_

"I know you, darling girl." He covered one of her hands with his own, and continued. "And I've known soldiers. You don't get that tense wariness you come home with unless you've been on high-tension, high-stakes missions. You don't wake up with night terrors if your days are spent reading up on—on Yemeni tribesmen's prayers, or whatever. If you were really sitting in a desk somewhere—and a damn waste of a good fighter that would be—it wouldn't take me fourteen damn telephone reroutes to call you and say hello. Plus, that watchdog leader of yours just oozes combat Army, even over the phone. So I've got to assume this 'chaplains' assistants' thing is a load of bull, and you're really involved in some covert operation of some sort."

"Oh." She blinked at him. He _had_ put it together rather neatly. She gave in, figuring she'd tell Duke it was his fault for sounding too Joe over the phone. "Well, crap. D' you think anyone else has put it together?"

"Oh, I think Frank suspects, but you know him—he'll never say anything. Sean wouldn't put all the bits together, and Brian… well, Brian will believe just about anything you tell him, even if it doesn't make sense. And even if they put it together, none of them would say anything, you know that."

"Right." Suddenly she laughed. "This works for me—I swore not to _tell_ anyone about my real job; there wasn't anything in there about confirming good guesses!"

Patrick laughed as well. "Clever girl. And if that Duke fellow gives you hell when you get back, well… You give him hell back, and then have him call me for my turn!" A sly look crossed his face. "Now, don't think I've forgotten about your young man…"

She slumped. "Right. Well, he's not really mine. I don't think."

"Another woman?"

"No, nothing like that, but… any time I try to steer things in a, um, non-friend manner…"

"You can say the word 'romantic,' you know."

She winced. "You're my _father_. I am not talking about 'romantic' around you if I can help it." He laughed. "Anyway, any time I try to go there, he just sort of… shuts down, walks away. But then on the other hand, any time I need him, any time I'm feeling down, or need help or sometimes just when I look at him…" Her voice trailed off, then continued more softly. "…he's there. And he has this look on his face like I'm all that matters, like I'm the world… Like _you_ used to get when you looked at Mom."

Patrick blinked, and let his air out with a whoosh. "You are smitten, aren't you? Don't worry, from what you've told me, you've knocked him head over heels if I'm any judge. Better than those boys in high school, even." She groaned at the memory. "It just sounds to me like he's shy. Is he a shy person?"

That thought had never occurred to her before: who would associate one of the world's deadliest ninja with shyness? It was like trying to imagine a renowned home decorator declaring he was fond of puce and orange. Ninja just sort of… stood out. Well, when they wanted to. "The same reasons he has for being very private," she said, thinking of his scars, "are the same ones that might cause him to be shy." She realized that even when they were alone, he rarely took off his face mask, and even then, he turned lights low and stuck to shadows. Did he think his scars—scars he'd received on her behalf—were repellent? Specifically, repellent to her?

Wow. She was learning a whole lot this trip home. "Dad, you're smarter than I gave you credit for. And you've never even met Snakes!"

"I aim to please," he said smugly. "Now, question is," he said, changing the subject, "am I smart enough to convince you to make breakfast for me?"

Laughing, she agreed, and moved into the kitchen, pondering these new insights.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The day went smoothly; she was able to draw oohs of admiration—and glares, mocking and not, from her brothers for their bruises—as she demonstrated throws and holds for some of the advanced classes. There was a bad moment when Sean accidentally kicked her in the side with the broken ribs. The pain and overwhelming, instantaneous memory threw her briefly into defense mode, but fortunately she snapped herself out of it before she'd taken more than one destructive step toward him.

"Oh, geez, Shana, sorry! That's the side you're hurt on, isn't it? No wonder you looked like you were seriously about to kick my ass." Sean apologized. She waved him off, but begged off physical demonstrations the rest of the day, instead sitting against the wall and offering constructive criticism to the class on form and follow-through.

The night was worse, though; as soon as her head hit the pillow, memories washed over her, and she could only huddle in her bed, hugging a pillow tightly, waiting for the shakes and tears to stop.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

_She hadn't thought that escaping would offer even more harrowing experiences than her capture, but then again, she hadn't realized Snakes had put himself into danger for her sake—again—until after she'd commandeered the C.L.A.W. personal flying device and was ready to blow out of there._

_She saw her old ninja friend facing off against her new 'friend', the ninja who'd brought her here. She was glad to see she hadn't caused any permanent damage—he seemed a decent enough fellow, for a Cobra lackey anyway—but she certainly wasn't going to let him skewer Snake Eyes. _

_With about half a second to determine a course of action, she maneuvered the C.L.A.W. so that she dropped in between the other ninja's flung sword and Snake Eyes; she hoped it didn't hit anything _too_ vital._

_To her surprise—and delight—Snake Eyes actually managed to _catch the sword_ between his palms, casually flinging it away behind him off the castle wall. Within about half a second, he was clinging tightly to her, and she reversed the thrust on the flying contraption to lift them up—and out of harm's way, as Cobra operatives gathered on the roof. _

_It took them a while to rendezvous with Wild Bill, who, it appeared, had hung around the area waiting for Snake Eyes' signal. Scarlett was grateful; flying all the way back to a safe zone with Snake clinging to her back would have been painful. He couldn't help hitting her ribs, face—well, really _any_ part of her hurt just then, except perhaps her toes. And even those she wasn't sure about._

_When they were safely ensconced in the belly of the transport plane, she could feel Snakes looking at her, even through his visor. He lifted his hand toward, but thankfully did not touch, her disfigured face; picked up one of her swollen, cut hands and examined it; looked at the pain-filled way she was moving. *Your ribs?*_

_She nodded. "Broken, I think."_

_*Would you like me to wrap them? It would make them hurt a good deal less.*_

_Usually, she would have waited til they got back, or had a fellow female Joe handle it, but there was no one else there, and anyway… this was _Snakes_. She trusted him with her life; why not with some skin? If Clutch had been there, or Flint, say, she never would have taken him up on the offer but… her ribs _hurt._ "Yes, I'd like that."_

_He moved off to get the medical kit, came back and slapped at her hands as she tried to get her jacket off without bending anything that hurt. He peeled off the garment and considered the cut, stained undershirt. *I'll put the bindings over the shirt,* he signed. *It's not ideal, but Lifeline or Doc will want to re-bind your ribs themselves when we get back, anyway.*_

"_And we won't have to deal with gossip about how you had me helpless and half-naked back here." She replied dryly, quaking with relief inside that he _wouldn't_ be taking off her shirt. It was Snakes, and she trusted and—yes—loved him, but… it was far, far too soon after those guards…_

_*There is that,* he agreed, and it took her a distracted second to realize he was referring to avoiding gossip. Because surely he couldn't know… what those guards had done. _

_He did fold the undershirt up to get a look at where the damaged ribs were lying, though, and she had to fight to keep her breathing steady at the feel of cold air on her skin. __iHiHis deft hands tapped over her skin's surgave__His deft hands tapped their way across the curve of her ribs, gently testing for weak or broken places. They moved down to the floating ribs. He caught sight of an oddly-shaped bruise—sort of an upside down U-shape, with longer bruises radiating out from the curved part—coming up over the back of her hip. The injuries to her belly and ribs were the unmistakable, half-moon shape that a boot to the ribs left, but this one didn't look nearly the same. _

_He edged the waist of her pants down about half an inch to look at it, tilting his head one way, then the other, as he tried to fit the shape to any of the interrogation devices Cobra was so fond of. None matched. Gently, he traced the outline, and Scarlett shivered. Thinking the shiver was from cold, he signed one-handed, *Sorry,* and laid his hand flat against the place to warm the chilled skin._

_He had to catch Scarlett when her knees suddenly went out; she was shaking, not from cold as he'd supposed, but rather from adrenaline-shock, he thought. He pulled her close to him, thinking to help still her shakiness, and was a bit surprised when she flung her arms around him and clung tightly until the shaking stopped._

_He had to remind his racing pulse that _now is not the time_. They'd been very casually dating for a while, and due entirely to his own reluctance to see Scarlett's reaction to him, had been very… non-physical on those dates. Her body pressed up against his reminded him of how very long it had been since a woman had been close to him in _any_ sense. _

_The shakes stopped. "S-s-sorry," she stuttered, suddenly realizing she was plastered against him. _

_*It's all right.*_

"_No, sorry, I know you don't like being touched, I—"_

_*Shana. It is all right. This is a natural relief reaction; all the adrenaline you didn't use is being released. It helps to have someone near.*_

"_But—"_

_*And I don't mind being that someone near, for you,* he offered. She slumped a little in relief._

"_Thanks. I think an—attack—like that would be a little scary without anyone around."_

_*Yes,* he agreed, and she realized that he must have had attacks like these when recovering from the terrible accident that had taken his voice. Her suspicion was confirmed when he continued, *You will likely have more attacks. Let me wrap your ribs now so you don't do further damage to them.*_

_Expertly and efficiently he wrapped her ribs, pinning the undershirt beneath the wrap, frowning again at the blood and cuts in the fabric. Something about them was bothering him. Aside from the very fact of their existence. _

_The rest of the trip was spent with Scarlett curled up against his side. Neither spoke; she seemed content to stare into the middle distance (except when more attacks struck), and he was busy watching her carefully._

_He didn't like what he saw; he was going to have to have a chat with Doc, and maybe Psyche-Out, when they got back, he thought. Scarlett was all too likely to downplay her injuries (like the rest of the Joes did; that trait seemed to be a requirement) and he wanted to be sure she was entirely all right before she went out on any other missions. It was all about the missions. _

_Maybe if he kept telling himself that, he'd believe that was really his concern, and not the pain in her eyes she was trying so very hard to hide._

_-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-_

_When they got back to base, he insisted on taking her straight to the infirmary, finally threatening to knock her out and carry her if she didn't go under her own power. He was disturbed by how pale she went at that threat: sure, it wasn't an idle threat, but that reaction was a little… strong. The Shana he knew should either very reluctantly agree, or fight tooth and nail to give a report first._

_When they entered, relief flashed across Lifeline's face, though he looked worried when he saw how tired Scarlett looked. "You're both back! Great. Scarlett, you know the drill, behind the curtain so I can get a look at you._ You, _ninja, don't get to look. Go do something useful."_

_Snake Eyes folded his arms and leaned solidly against the wall, telegraphing his intent to stay, no matter what._

_Scarlett's exhausted face popped around the curtain. "Snakes, bring Duke down here, will you? I've got a feeling Lifeline here will keep me a while, even if I don't need it, and I'd like to get my report over with."_

_He eyed her a moment, sensing an ulterior motive. He couldn't figure out what it could possibly be, though, and besides, how much trouble could she get to in the infirmary? He quashed the thought before Murphy's Law could kick in, nodded, and left._

_Scarlett sighed a little as he left, and emerged wearing an examination gown. She glanced around quickly, her face tense. "Lifeline… are we alone here?"_

_The medic looked around. "Where did that orderly go? Let me get her—I'm really not supposed to do an examination of a female team member without—" He broke off as she gripped his arm, hard._

_Her eyes were intent. "Doctor-patient confidentiality applies here, right? No matter what?" _

"_Yes, yes of course, Scarlett—what is it?" He asked, concerned by the worry in her voice. _

"_I—I…" she swallowed, and rushed out, "You need to know. So you can do… tests. S-some," she stuttered, breathed, closed her eyes and stated firmly, "Some of the guards… assaulted me."_

"_I—" Whatever he'd been expecting her to say, this wasn't it. He shook his head. Those words, coming from her, made no sense. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have had you dis… I…" Training, however, kicked in. "When you say 'assaulted'…."_

"_No intercourse, but…" She swallowed, and looked away, speaking very quietly. "Just about everything else."_

"_Damn. Scarlett," he said, and took her hand. "I am so, so sorry to hear that that happened to you. Can I get someone—" She shook her head. He took the hint. "You're right, though, it requires some tests._ Where _is that orderly? Now I really need her here…"_

"_No! You can't tell her—then Sn—everyone will know!"_

"_Scarlett, calm down. It's SOP for any Joe who's been a captive out of sight for more than two hours. No one will read anything in to any exams," he soothed. "But, obviously, regs state I can't so much as look at you without another female present. And I can do the exams myself—the orderly only needs to be here. She won't be able to figure anything out."_

_She blinked at tears of relief welling up in her eyes, sniffed them back. "Are you sure?"_

"_Yes." He paused, and then, as delicately as he could asked, "Would you mind meeting with Psyche-Out? You're a strong woman, but this is_ not _something you can—or should—handle on your own."_

_She winced. "It's not concern for_ me _or my… reputation, or whatever, really. I mean, we're given training for this sort of situation, women especially, and believe me, I_ know _it's not my fault. And I know there's a hell of a lot of emotional fallout coming my way. What I'm worried about is Snake Eyes."_

_He shook his head at this apparent non-sequitur. "What?"_

"_You know we're…close."_

"_In flagrant violation of the fraternization regulations, but if the higher-ups don't care, and it doesn't jeopardize your or his health, I don't care. Actually I think you're good for one another. So, yes, the news that you and Snake Eyes are 'close' is not a shock."_

"_Well, if he finds out about this too soon… if I'm not the one to tell him…" She shook her head and tried again. "If he finds out_ here, _where he has access to that C.L.A.W. I captured, or a dozen other modes of transport, and all the weapons he could want… if he finds out in the wrong way, or while he's_ here, _he will go back and_ kill every person there. _And there's at least one person who doesn't deserve that."_

_At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated, "That person stopped the guards, and took me away from them." She sighed, and said, "It's why I asked for Duke; I hope I can convince him to let me_ and _Snakes go on leave at the same time, so we can go to his cabin. It'll give me a chance to… process… and also give me a good time and place to tell him what happened."_

"_I see." He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. "May I fill Doc in on this? He_ is _your primary, and I can absolutely promise it will not go beyond him until you decide it does. Not even to Duke or Hawk."_

_She considered. "If he had been here instead of you, I'd have told him, so yeah. Okay. But_ no one else."

"_Promise." The orderly finally came in, cup of coffee in her hand. She looked startled to see a patient there._

"_Jacobs, where have you been? This soldier's been waiting so we can process her back in from the field."_

"_Sorry, sir! I didn't realize anyone was due in." She cast a confused glance at the utterly blank roster._

_Scarlett took pity on her. "You're new, aren't you?" The girl nodded. "In Joe, there are rarely regularly scheduled deployments or returns. Just make sure your higher-ups know where you are, huh?" She nodded again._

_Lifeline took over the conversation, going into training mode. "Now, Jacobs, this soldier was captured. List the standard examinations to be performed." He cast a significant glance at Scarlett._

"_Was the soldier out of sight?"_

"_Yes."_

"_For more than…" her forehead scrunched as she tried to remember "…two? Hours?"_

"_Right. And, yes, more than two hours."_

"_Uh, then we need to do general stats, full X-rays, CT, reflexes, full blood work, urine and stool sample, and a PERK." She glanced at Shana. "Sorry, sir. It's standard._ _Males_ and _females who've been captured."_

"_And a what?"_

"_A physical evidence recovery kit—an examination for sexual assault," Lifeline replied smoothly, as though they hadn't just been discussing it. "And it doesn't matter if you say they didn't do anything, we are not allowed to take a former captive's word for it."_

"_Why not?"_

_He shrugged. "Brainwashing, drugs, just plain embarrassment or shame… For that part of the exam, would you prefer I do it, or Jacobs here?"_

_She glanced at the orderly, who had a rather deer-in-the-headlights look. "No offense, kid, but I know Lifeline a lot better than I do you."_

_The girl relaxed. "As long as you don't mind me observing. It's—"_

"—_Regulations, I know." Shana sighed, then eyed the camera the orderly was getting out. "Let me guess. More regulations?"_

_The girl grimaced and nodded. "We have to document bruising, dislocations, that sort of thing."_

"_Fine," Shana sighed, and stood, arms outstretched. "Fire away."_

_Lifeline was thorough, but as quick as he could be. Even so, it took more than an hour. There was an extra delay when Snake Eyes returned with Duke, who asked her questions from one side of a curtain while Lifeline continued his exam on the other. Snake Eyes paced silently on Duke's side of the curtain._

_Finally, it was finished. Lifeline sent Snake Eyes to get Shana some other clothes (hers had to be taken for examination), and sent the orderly for more coffee; Duke had left a while before. The medic looked at her soberly. "Your tests will be encoded, so only Doc and I will know which coded items are yours. I'll get your results to you as quickly as possible, all right?"_

"_Thanks." A real smile, albeit a brief one, flashed across her face. "For everything."_

"_Right. Now, you come on back for_ anything, _all right? Even just to talk, or vent, or cry. And please, at some point, meet with Psyche-Out, all right?"_

"_Right."_

"_Now, go calm down that ninja of yours before he puts someone's eye out from sheer nerves."_

_She laughed, shakily, but she laughed. "I'll do my best."_

"_Don't we all."_

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-


	4. Chapter 4

Note: 10/18/11: I added a pretty huge scene to the beginning of this chapter, and a prologue, to help with the pacing. Please let me know if it worked!

Shades of Silence by Alara

Chapter Four

As threatened, Liz dropped by the house the next day around 10am for a round of her famous marathon shopping. Scarlett told herself that being sociable wasn't a bad thing. Maybe if she repeated it enough, she'd believe it.

The idea of going to the mall, though, with its echoing ceilings, numerous corners, hundreds of alcoves… She felt ill just thinking about it. And then there were the _crowds_ to deal with…

_Oh god oh god oh god_, she thought to herself, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to calm down. _It's just a mall, you can get through this. It in no way resembles a castle, or cells, or Cobra anything. You can goddamn well get out of the car and go shopping with your friend. _

She swung out of the driver's seat and gave Liz a bright smile. Liz was giving her a troubled look. *Shana… is everything OK?*

*Sure, just got lightheaded for a moment,* she replied, hoping Liz would drop it. After another penetrating glance, fortunately, she did.

*So I was thinking, you don't have many non-uniform clothes.* She began.

*I do too!*

Liz simply raised an eyebrow and gave her a look. Scarlett glanced down at herself, and laughed. She was wearing olive-green pants with a soft, brown, fairly utilitarian-looking sweater over it, and her boots because she'd forgotten to pack any other footwear.

*OK, you don't have many non-uniform clothes that don't _look_ like non-uniform clothes,* Liz amended. *I was thinking—you should get a dress for the next time you go out with your man.*

*I don't have a—*

*Oh, come on, Shana, the look on your face when you mention him says it all!* It was Liz's turn to laugh.

Scarlett blinked. *It does?* Well, her father had said something similar. Maybe they were right…

Liz nodded firmly. *It does. So, let's go find you a dress!*

Several hours later, they'd hit about fifteen stores, and hadn't found much. Liz had picked up a jacket, and Scarlett a pair of well-fitting jeans, but the dress was proving elusive. They hadn't even found one to try on, much less purchase.

They wandered into another store. Liz uttered a gasp, and pointed. *You have GOT to try that on.*

Scarlett eyed the dark teal dress with trepidation. *Are you sure?*

*Positive. Go, see if they have your size.*

The dress _was_ beautiful; a cowl neck draped gracefully front and back, and the skirt flowed serenely to the knee. The problem Scarlett had with it was that the drapes in front and back would come down to somewhere in the vicinity of her waist. _That's not a plunging neckline, that's a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen,_ she thought, but Liz was ushering her into the dressing room.

*You don't have to buy it, after all,* she pointed out. *But at least try it on.*

Reluctantly, she took it in, shimmied out of her own clothes, and held the dress up. It was obvious that unless she got some extremely well-constructed underclothing, _nothing_ was going under this dress. _What kind of look do I get on my face when I think of Snake Eyes, anyway? _She wondered briefly, bewildered, before slipping the dress over her head.

Well… it _was_ beautiful, if a good deal more risqué than anything she normally wore. Though the feeling of air moving over so much skin unsettled her, dutifully she stepped out of the dressing room so Liz could get a look.

The other woman gasped and clapped her hands. *That looks _fantastic _on you!* Then she frowned, and moved closer. *Good God, Shana… are those bruises?*

"I—uh—" the question unseated her to the point where she forgot to sign. She fled back to the dressing room where she fairly leapt out of the dress and into her own clothes—when she collapsed in a shivering heap in the corner, breathing into her knees, wishing Snake Eyes were there, with his concern and his soothing gestures.

The thought of him steadied her, and she gathered her composure. She placed the slightly crumpled dress back on the hanger, and exited the dressing room where an apologetic Liz was signing at her.

*I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was an upsetting question. I mean, I noticed your face, hard not to, but I figured that was something from the martial arts thing.*

*It was,* Scarlett swiftly replied, glad for the opening to get her cover repeated. *I was training recruits in hand-to-hand, and one of them was less coordinated than he thought, and more zealous than he should have been. Sorry, it just made me aware of how awful I must look right now; that dress is a no-go.*

This served to distract Liz well. *Oh, Shana, I didn't mean you look awful! Just, you know, bruised. Anyway, if you're sure you don't want that dress…?* Scarlett firmly shook her head 'no.' *…Then we should try…*

The rest of the day, Scarlett had to watch herself keenly for signs of incipient panic attacks, and avoided a couple only by studious deep breathing and chanting in her mind, _You're in a mall, not the castle, you're in a mall, not the castle…* _She wished again that Snake Eyes were there. Or that Duke had let her go to Snake Eyes' cabin, where they could be talking right now. Or that Snake Eyes were _here_ so she could talk to him.

She'd hoped to make it through _one_ week without losing it, but had a sinking feeling that she was going to lose it a lot sooner than that. And there was no one around in whom she could confide the truth.

That tension, combined with the sheer exhaustion of shopping with Liz, combined with the stress of _hiding_ her tension from Liz, conspired to utterly exhaust her. She dropped Liz off at her house around 9pm, and upon arrival back at her father's house, headed straight for her room.

She simply fell into her bed. A moment later, she kicked her shoes off. _Thunk. Thunk._

Silence. Alone-ness. She lay in stillness for a while, before the silence started to bother her. It was _too_ silent in the room; it wasn't the silence she could sit in for hours when she was with Snake Eyes. It wasn't alone-with-Snake-Eyes, it was just _alone_, and she started to cry, wishing he were there so she could unburden herself to him, invite him to share the weight of the memories that threatened to crush her. Telling Lifeline had been more of a following-orders type of reflex; it offered only marginal relief, and she'd told him mostly because it was _stupid_ not to let her medical professional know what had happened.

And it had been relatively easy to tell him, she reflected, after she'd secured his promise of secrecy.

But… didn't she trust Snake Eyes to keep the same promise, if she asked it of him? Of course; just because he hadn't sworn any oath to keep secrets didn't mean he _couldn't_.

She wished he were there.

She fell into a light doze, woke a long while later when Brian poked his head in, curious.

"Shana? You feeling OK? You missed dinner, and you didn't even swing by the kitchen when you got back."

His sister shook her head without even bothering to sit up. "No, I'm just… really really tired for some reason. I guess shopping with Liz is more exhausting than I remembered. Think I'm gonna just go to sleep. Liz and I had a late lunch."

"Well, okay… holler if you need anything, all right?"

"Mmph." She said into her pillow.

He made his way down to the kitchen, where his father and brothers were sipping tea.

"Hey. Shana all right?" Sean asked, pouring out a cup for him and sliding it over.

Brian frowned. "Have any of you noticed anything… odd… about Shana this time around?"

They exchanged looks. "You mean, besides her sleeping maybe two hours a night? And waking up from 'bad dreams'?" Frank asked.

"And not eating much?" This from Patrick.

"And the physical state she came home in?" Sean put in. "Why, no, aside from those things, we think she's just peachy-keen."

Brian frowned at him. "I'm serious."

"So'm I." Sean returned. "I don't know if either of you noticed the other day in the dojo, but she's got more bruises than just to her face."

"She _was_ training greenies most recently," Patrick pointed out.

"These weren't hand-to-hand marks. They weren't in the right places for any legitimate fighting style to leave marks. It looked like someone tried to kick her ribs in. While she was down."

Another round of looks was exchanged. Brian cleared his throat. "Well, I'm not just talking about the physical problems she's showing."

Patrick leaned forward. "Out with it, son. What is it?"

"She's… wary, have you noticed?" He ticked off the points on his fingers. "She tries to sit with her back in a corner. She doesn't just walk around outside corners, she _sights_ around them. Every time she's in an open area with no cover, she tenses up. She nearly maimed Sean the other day in the dojo—pure fight-or-flight instinct kicking in when he got that hold on her." He hesitated. He was an EMT when he wasn't teaching classes, and didn't like the similarities he saw between his sister and some particular of his cases.

"Obviously there's more. What?" Frank asked flatly.

"I think she was attacked. _Deliberately._" He added firmly. "And vey recently. She's acting like—just like—the women I see who've been… abused, or attacked."

Sean shot to his feet, outraged. "Do you think it was someone at her work? Tea Guy, maybe? I swear, Army guy or no, I'll—"

"Sssh! Keep it down!" Brian shushed him. "She finally collapsed; do you want to wake her?"

Grumbling, Sean subsided. Patrick offered his opinion. "I don't think it was anyone at her work—she talks about them freely, with no hesitations. It's obvious she likes and trusts all of them, and that trust has not been violated. And after our conversation last night, _believe me_," he shot a look at Sean, "this Tea Guy is very well liked by our Shana. And from what I can infer, the man would walk through fire for her. In fact, I wish we had some way to get him here; it's obvious they share a close bond. He could probably get her to open up."

"So, what are we thinking?" Frank asked. "A visitor to the base took her by surprise, or…?"

Patrick shook his head bleakly. "Trainee—or a group of them—who didn't like getting his ass handed to him by a woman? A random mugging in town, perhaps? The only way to know for sure is to ask her." They all winced at that idea. Shana had a temper sometimes. "…or we could wait for her to tell us."

"And make sure she sleeps and eats in the meantime," Frank added grimly. "Since the last time she visited, she has to have lost at least ten pounds. Those are ten pounds she absolutely can't afford to lose."

Outside, on the roof, Snake Eyes nodded to himself bleakly as he listened to the worried conversation continuing. This fit all too well with his suspicions.

Of course, he had the advantage of actually _knowing_ some of the circumstances that put her in this state. But he didn't know everything, and he had a nagging idea that those missing details were the most important.

He slipped silently along the roof, jimmied the window up, and stepped into her room. He noticed she was simply flopped across the bed, fully clothed; with care, he maneuvered the covers from beneath her and arranged them over her slack form. He sat down and watched her sleep, deceptively peaceful. From the past week since they'd arrived back, though, he knew it wouldn't last. Soon enough, perhaps an hour later, she was tossing in the throes of yet another nightmare, and abruptly woke, crying. He listened: there were words in the muffled sobs.

His name. His name again, the wavering words "need," "want," "miss." "Alone." "Snakes…" This on a drawn-out sob.

He scuffed the sole of his foot against the floor. She turned, startled, gasped in recognition, then threw herself at him weeping, dragging him to the bed.

He froze—this wasn't like the Scarlett he knew. The Scarlett he knew would be trying to hide her tears, or shrug them off, or something… not draw him into them. He didn't mind being drawn in to her troubles—it was why he'd come, after all. Only, what was he supposed to do in this situation? He thought back to the plane, then carefully put his arms around her. She clung more tightly. He figured holding her was the right thing to do.

Conveniently, it was what he wanted to do, anyway.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Gradually the storm of weeping ceased. She sat back from him, tangled in blankets, and shoved mussed hair out of her reddened eyes. She offered a tremulous but genuine smile. "What are you doing here? I don't mind—I mean, I love that you're here, but—"

*Hush. I thought you might need me, so I came to check on you. I'm glad I did. You're not well, Shana.* He peered at her, as though she might try to deny it. Fortunately, she didn't try.

She sniffed back more tears and looked away miserably. "I know."

He waved to get her attention and signed firmly. *I think you need to tell me—*

"Hey! Who the hell are you? Get away from my sister!"

"Sean!" Shana gasped. She hadn't heard him coming. "Don't—"

Too late. Her brother was already charging across the room like a maddened bull. Instead of taking out the menacing man in black who was _holding his sister_, _sitting in her bed_, he ran smack into the wall: the guy had friggin' disappeared. "Hey!"

"Sean. SEAN." Shana stood in front of Snake Eyes, arms outstretched. "Stop it. He's a friend."

He cast her a significant look and glared at Snake Eyes. "He must be—his hands were all over you!"

She scoffed. "Oh, hush. It's called a 'hug,' Sean, I gave you one a couple of days ago." She huffed in exasperation, her tears forgotten in the annoyance at her brother. "Oh, forget it. Come on, Snakes."

She grabbed the bewildered ninja by the hand—what the heck was going on?—and led him downstairs, through the kitchen ("Dad, Frank, Brian, this is Snake Eyes. He's a friend from work. Leave us alone, please."), and led him outside onto the porch.

In the kitchen, there was stunned silence for a moment. A mystified Brian and Frank looked at their father; Sean came stumbling down and gave Patrick a questioning look.

Their father smiled, unperturbed, sipped his tea, and shrugged. "_That's_ Tea Guy."

"What?" This from Brian and Frank.

Sean added, "So… _what_ is Tea Guy—he's not human. He moves faster than you can see!"

Patrick leaned forward. "For one, I think he's the answer to our concerns about Shana. Or the beginning of the answer." He cast a worried look toward the porch. "Here's what else I know…"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Once they were alone, Snake Eyes looked at Shana soberly. *You need to tell me what happened. All of it.*

When she didn't answer, but looked him helplessly—how could she tell him? He'd be at best, wary of touching her—and he already was wary. Or he'd be revolted at the fact of the assault, or its circumstances, or (her brave words to Lifeline about _knowing_ it wasn't her fault notwithstanding) he even might blame her, a tiny bit. Wasn't she always falling into these crazy circumstances that put him at risk for her sake?

Anyway, knowing something was true wasn't the same, exactly, as _believing_ it.

Or he might blame himself, for not getting there soon enough.

Or he could still go back and slaughter everyone there.

How could she tell him? Yet she wanted to; she didn't want this between them, marring their closeness.

*All right, let me get you started.* He said, when it was apparent she wasn't going to be able to speak just then. *You were shackled at wrist and ankle. Yes?* she nodded. *You were kicked and punched and beaten.* Another nod. *Your undershirt was cut and stained, but your jacket and pants weren't.* She cringed. She'd forgotten he'd notice those details. *Were you naked?*

"Not… exactly." He cocked his head questioningly. "They left my underclothes on."

*They took your bra off,* he replied, anger in his movements. She cast him a startled look: how had he known that? *I had my arms around you on the C.L.A.W. and I bandaged your ribs in the C-140.* Somehow he managed a dry tone while signing, *Believe me, I noticed. *Tell me the truth.*

She shook her head, opened her mouth to say something, but sound wouldn't come out. She tried; a croaking sound emerged from her fear and tear-swollen throat. She shook her head again, helplessly.

*They captured you, they beat you, they shackled you so you couldn't move.* He signed, relentlessly. *They stripped—* His hands shot forward to catch her as the blood rushed out of her head and she collapsed, boneless, against him, retching helplessly as memories washed over her. _Couldn't move. Stripped you._

His hands soothed her, helped her get her breathing back into some semblance of control. When she'd finally taken several gulping but deep breaths—the tightness of her throat washed away by the freshet of tears—he curved his arm around her shoulders to sign in front of her. She clung to him like a limpet, so this was the only way he was going to get to communicate. He sighed as he signed, *Those weren't adrenaline rushes in the plane; they were panic attacks. Weren't they.* She nodded wearily against his chest. Tried to speak, and winced when only another creaky squeak emerged. *Try signing.*

Reluctantly she pulled away from him enough that he could see her hands. *Yes. They undressed me.* Had to stop and gasp for air as her throat tried to close again. Deliberately, she repeated it. *They undressed me and chained me down. I figured it was so I wouldn't try to escape, or to humiliate me, maybe.* He heard her swallow. *But then—those guards—*

Another attack hit, and she huddled against his chest, cursing her own weakness. Shakily she shoved herself away, determined to get through this at least once. *One of the guards came into the cell. Made some comments. I figured, new scare tactic for female prisoners. Until the other guard—*

He stiffened in outrage. *There were two?*

She managed an amused snort. *Yeah. I'm a very dangerous prisoner, you know. I thought the other guard would yell at him for interfering with the prisoner or something. Instead he said—* She swallowed back a sob. *He said the first guy was starting without him.* She bit her lips, the slight amount of paint helping her keep control, not spiral into hysteria again. *They pulled my shirt up so it covered my face so I couldn't see… cut a hole in it for my mouth…* She was beginning to shake. *Then I heard a zipper go.* She lost the battle and began sobbing into Snake Eyes' neck again. Tried to rein it in.

She felt movement on her back, and realized Snake Eyes was holding her against him, signing into her back, *Cry. Let yourself cry. Cry.* As though permission was what she needed, she did.

A long while later, when both eyes were swollen almost shut from tears and her head was throbbing, she tried to resume her story.

*So the one guy was in front of me, and—*

He interrupted. *I know… what he was doing. You don't need to say it now.*

She nodded wearily, gratefully to not have to articulate that particular violation, that humiliation.

*What was the other one doing,* he asked reluctantly. *Watching?* He could hope.

She shook her head. *He was behind me, touching me. Keeping me distracted for the other guy. Grabbing my chest. He—* She gagged, remembering. *He put his hand up—* And lost it again.

An odd thing, though: every bit of the story she told to Snake Eyes, every time she took comfort from his solidity and strength, she found she felt a little bit better. Oh, not perfect, for sure—that would be a long time coming, if at all, and only after some very long discussions with Psyche-Out, she was sure. But… better than she felt holding it in.

Eventually she lay quietly against him, exhausted. He signed against her back again. *Why didn't you tell me?* Not for the first time, he cursed his inability to add tone. He hoped she didn't 'hear' that as accusatory.

She laughed shakily. *Honestly? Stupid reasons. I thought you might, oh, go kill everyone there. Or think I was even more untouchable than you do already. Or something.*

He exhaled consideringly: his version of humming. *Those aren't stupid reasons. Well, the first one isn't.*

"What? But you—"

*If I had known what they'd done to you, I _would_ have gone back and killed every living creature there, to be sure I got those who did this. And those who condoned it.* He paused. *I still would, but you're sitting on me.*

"Well, I wasn't even at the same place that those guards were, when you came for me," she pointed out. Her eyes narrowed. "Hey, whaddaya mean, I'm sitting on you? You can bench over 250. I'm not that heavy!"

She felt his silent laugh. *That's not what I meant. I meant, I'm comfortable, and don't want to move.*

"Oh." They sat for a few moments.

*So how did you get away from them?*

"The one who was—in front of me," she euphemized. "He… stopped concentrating on keeping me still. So I bit him."

He jerked in surprise.

"And held on."

He snickered; there was no other sound for it. *That's my girl.*

"And he was yelling and screaming—"

*I bet he was.*

"—and another guard, a third man, came to see what was going on. He came in while the one I bit was trying to kick me to death and the other one was trying to stop him." She paused. "The third man was the ninja you were facing off against, at the end. He yelled at them, told them they were 'dishonorable'—"

*I'd have said worse,* he grumbled.

"—and took me to that castle where we escaped from. Thanks, by the way."

*For what?*

"Coming for me. Again. You're always doing that.* She sighed.

*May I remind you, Shana, that you already had your escape well underway when I arrived? And I don't…* He cast around for a word. *I don't mind coming for you.*

"B-but I'm always putting you in danger," and she felt the stupid tears starting again. Wasn't she nearly out of them by now? And then she was more honest than she intended to be. "But you come for me anyway, and I think you really l-like me. But then whenever we're alone, you won't let me touch you. Do you think I _care_ about what you look like?

"No," she forestalled his protest, "I know you don't think that of me. But now I understand how the memory of something can make you feel… undeserving of closeness. Unlovable. I don't blame you for not wanting to touch me; I _feel_ very unlovable, especially right now, but at the same time I want so very much to feel loved. Does that make sense? It's stupid." She sighed against his chest.

Then he put her from him, and her heart crumpled a little, 'til she realized he was making sure she could read his hands clearly, read the intensity of his body language. *I don't care that I have to help you out of dangerous situations sometimes; I will go anywhere you go. The distance I keep between us—it's not that I think you'll be repulsed by me; I know you better than that. And, by the way, you're sort of the opposite of untouchable. You're—you're radiant, you're alluring. Men notice you where ever you go.*

His shoulders slumped, just a little, an oddly helpless gesture, but she noticed. *But how can you tie yourself to a man who you can't walk around on the streets with? A man who has to wear a mask? Who is pointed out as a freak where ever he goes? Who can't whisper into your ear, who can't tell you he loves you? Because I do, Shana O'Hara.* He took a quick, gasping breath. *And if I ever let myself fall into that—loving you—I won't know how to let you go.

*Because eventually, you'll want to. You'll get frustrated by—everything that tying yourself to a man such as I will entail. And you'll leave. And if I've let myself—well. I wouldn't know how to let you go. I _already_ can't let you go. When we heard you'd been taken, I technically went AWOL. I only got official orders to go for you _after_ I'd already left.*

Her jaw dropped. Unable to speak, she fell back on signing. *You think I _care_ about what other people think? Do you think I haven't _noticed_ the looks we both get when we're out? I'm not stupid, and I _don't_ care what other people think. It's my choice who I'm with, and I like being with you. You make me _happy_, Snake Eyes; I'm just plain _happy_ when you're with me, whether we're scaling a wall or avoiding guards or dodging bullets or just training at the Pit. You make me happy, and—* She stopped suddenly, and found she could speak after all. "Did—did you just say you love me?"

Hesitantly, he nodded.

She put a hand along his cheek, and whispered. "Oh—then, please. Let yourself fall. I'm not going anywhere. I don't want anyone else. I haven't looked at anyone else since I met you. I love you and I promise, I'm not going anywhere."

A half-sob issued from his mask, and then, with swiftness only a ninja could manage, he jerked the bottom edge of his mask up, and those scarred lips were easing over her full ones, asking, thanking.

She twined her arms around his neck, pulling herself more fully against him, reveling in the sensation, the texture of his scarred mouth against hers, its path as it dropped kisses on her cheeks and nose, and back to her mouth. His hands caressed her waist gently, mindful of her injuries, yet unable to keep from touching her: _Mine. A gift from her, but mine._

Eventually they parted. A discreet cough came from the kitchen where her father and brothers were still sitting. They turned; the O'Hara men were studiously not looking out the door or windows.

Her face flamed.

The edge of his mouth twitched in what was unmistakably a smirk, and she briefly wondered how many expressions his mask allowed him to hide in a day. *Will you introduce me to your family?*

Still blushing, she grinned, and led him back inside. "Hi, guys. This is Snake Eyes… Yes, that's his real name…"

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A few days later, they arrived back at the Pit. Lifeline not-so-casually bumped into them while Shana was headed to her room. "Oh, Scarlett, hope you had a good vacation? I've got some things to go over with you later. Whenever you get—"

"He knows," she interrupted him. "So come back to my room and tell me."

"Uh. Okay…" Lifeline eyed the other man pacing silently down the hall, hoping he wouldn't suddenly burst out in a fit of rage and nunchuck him to death, or whatever ninjas did.

They arrived at Scarlett's tiny room; she typed in the entry code to the door, flicked on the lights, and put a kettle on the hot plate. She waved Lifeline into a chair, and plopped down into a comfortable chair.

To Lifeline's surprise, Snake Eyes perched beside her, and curved an arm across her shoulders. He knew they were sort-of-unofficially dating, but he didn't usually touch her in public. And as far as Lifeline could tell, the ninja considered everywhere to be 'public.'

He noted their tenseness, and recollected himself. "Don't worry, it's all good news; I figured you'd want to know as soon as possible. All the tests that we hoped would come back negative, did; those that should have come back positive, did." They both heaved sighs of relief. "Now, there will be follow-up blood tests, since sometimes things can incubate for a while," he warned. "But it's looking good. And Doc wants to see you sometime." He nodded, and stood. "Well, that's all. Welcome back."

Lazily, she waved as he left; a moment later, the kettle whistled and she let Snake Eyes take care of making the tea. He handed her a steaming cup and she allowed the tension to drain from her shoulders as she flopped against the chair's back. "Well, that's a relief."

*It is.* They sat in companionable silence for a few moment, sipping the hot liquid. He looked at her, then signed, pleadingly, *You will still make an appointment to see Psyche-Out, won't you?*

"Of course. If—if he lets me—will you come with me? At least the first time?"

He nodded.

"Thanks."

*How _did_ your family seem to know more than they ought about what you do?* He wondered.

She laughed. "Honestly, I didn't tell them anything. My father's smart—he figured it out. Then again, he also figured out we loved each other just from what I did and didn't tell him."

*I'm impressed. He is smart. I guess that's where you get it.*

Another laugh; he loved hearing her laugh. "I guess it is. Thanks for the tea, but I've got to go see Duke."

*Duke? Why?*

She lifted her chin and firmed her shoulders. "I'm going to tell him what happened." She said sturdily. "He'll have to take me off the active duty roster, at least until I've got these panic attacks under control. I can't afford to take the risk of being on a mission and being blindsided by one of those; I'm helpless, and worse—it'll put the rest of the team at risk."

He regarded her a moment. *That's a bold move; I'm proud of you. You're also probably going to have to make some sort of general announcement to the Joes, or have Duke do it.*

"Why?" He might think her bold, but…

*What if you're in a training session and you go into one of these attacks?* he pointed out reasonably. *They'll need to know what to do—and what not to do.*

"Yeah," she realized. "You're right. Otherwise I could break someone's neck and not even realize it." She sighed. "This is going to be hard."

*You're not alone in it; I'm not going anywhere, either.*

She smiled. "Thanks. That helps. Now, do you want to come help me make sure Duke doesn't have an aneurysm?"

*Do we have to make sure he _doesn't_ have one? That could be fun to watch,* he objected, as they finished their tea and walked toward the CO's office.

"Hah. And people say ninja have no sense of humor."

*We do. We're just very, very sneaky about it.*

She gave him a look, then laughed and bumped her side against his. "You certainly are."

He shrugged. *Ninja. It's sort of what we do.*

She laughed, unable to disagree, happy with him in that moment, and silence wrapped around them again as they walked.

Tomorrow would wait, with all of its trials and tribulations; for now, she was happy, and reveled in the moment. It was enough, for now. It was enough.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Fin.

Hope you liked it!

The particular pic which inspired this is at slgallant [dot] wordpress [dot] com [slash] 2010 [slash] 10 [slash] 29 [slash] rolling-snake-eyes [slash] . You might have seen it before, but it's super-cute and sort of took over my brain. Let me know what you think!

Reviews, constructive criticism welcome. Don't tell me Scarlett belongs with Duke though; if you read this whole thing after reading the intro note, you deserve what you got. Nyaah.


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